


The Pink Stuff

by fleete



Series: Pornathon 2013 [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fuck Or Die, Humor, M/M, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-27
Updated: 2013-07-27
Packaged: 2017-12-21 13:38:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/900923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleete/pseuds/fleete
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The following events can be summed up thusly: Sir Leon's life is hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pink Stuff

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Fuck or Die challenge.
> 
>  **content notes** : non-con (one party is too drugged to consent)

Among the things that Leon is good at are the following: not looking at Merlin’s throat, not looking at Merlin’s wrists, and not looking at Merlin’s tongue.

One might think that the last is quite easy, seeing as Merlin’s tongue is inside his face and not generally visible, except that Merlin is often talking, but also, more distressingly, licking his lips while eating.

In any case, Leon has developed considerable skill at not looking at these areas of Merlin’s body, or indeed, most of Merlin’s body. That way lies danger.

Oh look, there’s danger now.

“Leon? Leon, okay, keep your eyes open. Just hold on. I’m going to take care of you.”

Merlin’s eyes are absurdly large. Like nuts. Or those big quail he and Elyan caught last week. Large, round, and tasty.

“He’s not making any sense,” says Merlin.

“I told you, he drank all that pink stuff.”

“Well, why didn’t you stop him?”

“It’s not my fault if my knights want to go protecting me.”

“Shut up, Arthur, I just need to—”

Oh that’s better. Leon suddenly feels much better. The fuzzy nausea roiling in his stomach abates to a hot, pleasant tingle pooled in his groin. Something warm strokes up and down his thighs and cock, and it makes Leon sigh with relief.

“Leon, I don’t know if you can understand me, but that pink potion has made you ill. And this is all going to be very strange, but we just need to work it out of your body.”

And there’s a wash of gentle touching that Leon loses track of. For awhile, everything feels luxurious and agreeable and also a bit like pinpricks.

But then, quite unexpectedly, Leon’s hands are on Merlin’s behind. Christ. His hands fly away, but _fucking fuck fuck_ that hurts, and his hands fly back again with a resounding slap.

“Ow. See. Just. Just, keep your hands on me. It’ll help.”

Leon is going to be assigned to guard duty for goddamned _years_ for this. Arthur is going to catch him with his hands down Merlin’s trousers, and he is going to be stuck guarding that cell where they throw all the drunks. He will smell of stale mead and forever be known as Leon, Knight of the Drunks.

“Right. I’m going to put your cock in my arse now.”

“Oh my god,” someone else says.

“Well, turn around if you don’t want to watch.”

Everything is a sort of roiling, pinkish haze, but Leon becomes aware that he is not wearing any trousers at the same moment his cock is put inside something extremely hot and squeeze-y.

“Squeeze-y. That’s great, Leon. That’s the loveliest compliment my arse has ever had.” Merlin’s voice is breathy and thin, for some reason, and it takes Leon about a dozen thrusts before he realizes that it’s because he’s _fucking Merlin_.

He blinks his eyes five or six times and looks up to see Merlin’s face, open-mouthed and shiny, his eyes still alert with the professional gaze of a physician.

“Hello there,” Merlin says triumphantly when Leon manages to make eye contact. He bounces on Leon’s prick a few more times. “You seem to be doing better. Would you like a kiss?”

“Yes, please,” Leon says, raspy, and Merlin leans down and lets Leon have his fat bottom lip to suck upon while he fucks up, up, up into Merlin’s behind. The world around him grows clearer with every thrust, and Leon falters when he realizes that someone is shifting about nervously just a few steps away.

“Arthur?” Leon manages when he recognizes the expensive boots.

Arthur makes a noise like a dying cat and doesn’t turn around.

“Don’t mind him,” Merlin says with a kiss to Leon’s collarbone. “He’s busy being scandalized.”

Leon makes an immediate and valiant effort to apologize, except it comes out, “ _Nnngghhh_ ,” when he comes in painful jerks up the grip of Merlin’s arse.

“There you go,” Merlin whispers soothingly.

The blanket of trees above him come into focus, the leaves crystallizing in his vision as they shiver in the breeze. A twig breaks off to his left, and Leon very carefully does not look at the King.

Merlin’s still sitting on his cock, smiling. “Don’t worry,” Merlin says. He goes up on his knees, slowly, and Leon’s cock drops out with a slurp. “Arthur’s very grateful. After all, if you hadn’t drunk that potion, it’d have been him in your place!”

Arthur growls. Leon whimpers.


End file.
